Ten Secrets for Eight People
by Iheartyou153
Summary: A series of One shots giving each of the canon characters a chance to lay out ten secrets. Some are silly, some are sad, all are interesting.
1. Maureen

Disclaimer: Not mine…tear.

A/N:This is basically a series of one shots telling ten secrets of each of the cannon characters. Thanks to Niki (Fred Weasleys Angel) for betaing a few of the secrets.

**MAUREEN**

Rainy day and a Monday? You have got to be fucking kidding me! It's like the worst day ever in Madonna song-verse. Or something like that. Since it isn't like I listen to Madonna or anything. I am way too hip to listen to that stupid whore who only is famous for making fun, catchy, totally loveable pop songs. But I don't love them. Oh no, I don't for sure. I hate those wonderfully bubbly and outrageously fun and girly pop songs…okay, well maybe I lied. I love Madonna songs. Secret number one that I would never let anyone in the entire world know: I love Madonna. Laugh all you want, the songs are fun and I'd totally go fully lesbian if she asked me to be.

So anyway, back on topic, it's a rainy day and a Monday. And Joanne is at work. Which leaves me with nothing to do. I should be memorizing a monologue or something, but it's boring and stupid. I don't even want the part that badly. I would have to be Dorothy in some weird production of The Wizard of Oz. I totally hate Dorothy. I think she is a stupid, stuck-up bitch that needs to stop crying and give the Witch the fucking slippers. I always lied when I was little and said that she was my favorite character. But it's called lying for a reason. The Wicked Witch of the West was. And if I can be completely blunt, I used to want to be her. I would make up stories as to why she was so 'bad,' which were usually about how all she wanted was to have her sister's shoes as a memento. Secret number two I'd never let anyone in the entire world know: I hate Dorothy and think she should've melted instead of the Witch. Oh and I also think that the Scarecrow was totally sexy and I'd go completely straight if him and his sexy straw-ness asked me to do so.

I think I am going to call Mark. You know why? Because I can totally get him to do whatever I want. Poor guy, he is still totally obsessed with me. And I know if I ever wanted to, he would totally take me back. Which scares me because I still kind of want him. Like sure, loving a girl is fun, but who wouldn't want Mark? Well, I guess for a good part of the time I was dating him, I didn't want him either. But now he's totally adorable and I just want to drag him into my room and fuck him into oblivion. I can totally think of a bunch of kinky shit I could do with that scarf of his…whoa, wait. Let's keep this PG-13. Secret number three I'd never let anyone in the whole wide world know: the real reason I want to call Mark right now is so that we can hook up. And that doesn't make me feel the least bit guilty.

Maybe the reason why I have never felt guilty about cheating is because I am a total slut. No really, I am. No matter how much I try to deny it, I know it's true. I am a complete, just under the ranks of prostitution whore. And the fact of the matter is, if I weren't dating Joanne, I'd probably be a prostitute. Well, maybe not. Maybe just a stripper. Like Mimi. Mimi is a good stripper and she makes enough money to live off of. Not that I'm bad off with Joanne. It's just that Joanne is boring and blah. A stripper is such and exciting job. You get to be a whore and dance around to totally obscene music and be naked. And all of these are things Maureen loves to do. And Maureen really, really wants to be a stripper now. And Maureen really needs to stop referring to herself in the third person. Where was I? Oh yes, I was on the fourth secret about myself. Okay, secret number four I wouldn't ever let anyone in the world find out: it has always been an ambition of mine, just below acting and protests and all that jazz, to be a stripper. Oh and Mimi is totally my idol, just so you know.

Maybe I should plan another protest. Protesting making prostitutes legal. And then strippers won't seem like cheap whores and I will finally have a protest where I actually a) know what I'm talking about and b) actually care about the thing I'm protesting. This is going to make me seem like the biggest hypocrite in the world, but the fifth secret I'd never let anyone know: I never actually know what I'm talking about or have any belief in what I'm protesting. I just protest it to make myself look aware and scene. I want so badly to defy everything, and really, I don't ever know what I'm talking about and I'm willing to do anything for attention. Maybe if I do this, I can actually put my passion into something I believe in, instead of just being scene.

But I'm not scene. I mean, look at me! I listen to Madonna, I analyze a children's movie, I want to bang my ex-boyfriend whom I left for a girl, and it is my secret ambition to become a stripper. And I am a hypocrite who apparently has useless protests just so she can be scene and deviate from what's normal. And there is secret number six no one in the world can ever find out by penalty of law: I will do anything to defy the rules, even if it's stupid and irrational, and it is my main mission in life to be edgy. I think it started with my attention whore-ism and it just hasn't stopped since. Because I will do anything for attention, I try to pick what's edgiest. But I'm not edgy, which is the reason why these aforementioned secrets and the four more you are about to learn are secret.

Okay so I have deviated from the main topic quite a bit. Anyway, it is a rainy Monday, which we have already established as a bad Madonna song day or whatever. Rain is fun though. I like it. I love feeling the rain on your skin and just dancing in it. It makes me feel invincible. I used to get really sick all the time when I was younger and my mom could never figure it out. And I never told her it was because I'd dance in the rain like no one was watching, which of course they weren't since they obviously didn't know what got me so sick. Secret number seven (you know what goes here so why even bother): I adore the rain. And I don't really know why it's such a big secret. It just is. Although I must admit, if I went and danced in the rain right now and Mark somehow found me, that'd be pretty hot. No Maureen, you will not screw Mark. We went over this. Oh screw it, I probably would.

Calling Mark seems more attractive by the moment. Then I wouldn't be lonely, and Pookie won't be home until late, so I'd be terribly lonely. Pookie is such a stupid nickname. I don't know where it came from. Actually, yes I do. I was eating a cookie one day when Mark came in and asked me what I was eating. I said "Cookie," but I guess it came out sounding like the nickname. Secret eight: I hate the nickname Pookie. But I still use it, just because people expect me to do so. I think it's retarded. That was mean, but it seriously needs to be in the Special Ed class of nicknames. I hate it.

This girl in the apartment below ism playing samba, and while it's loud and very annoying…I like it. I adore Spanish music. I adore Spanish dancing. I adore Spanish food. My favorite of all Spanish dancing is the tango. It's so sexy and symbolic. I always have, too. Secret nine: I love to tango. And no one can know this since I know what they say behind my back. That my love is like a complicated tango or whatever. Maybe that's the irony or symbolism or whatever. I love to tango.

I am all secreted out. Well not really. I just tend to go blank when I'm bored. So I will leave you with one parting secret. A secret full of secrets. One that describes me and everything about me perfectly. Secret ten I'd die if anyone found out: I'm really not that full of secrets.


	2. Mark

Disclaimer: Not mine…tear.

A/N: Thanks once again to the AMAZING Niki for giving me ideas for secrets. One of the lines in here is completely and 100 hers!

**MARK**

I'm singing in the rain…I'm singing in the rain…whatever, whatever…singing in the rain. You know what? It totally defeats the whole purpose of singing that song when it's raining and your inside. Like me. I'm singing 'Singing in the Rain' while inside on a rainy day. Not cool, right? Exactly. Totally not cool or appropriate. So what is appropriate for the occasion? Oh, I know. That Madonna song Maureen always pretends to throw up during! No…that won't work. I only sing showtunes. All the other stuff is what Roger will sing, or, if he deems himself to manly, one of the girls will sing. I sing showtunes and showtunes only. Which leads to my first secret I'd die if anyone ever found out: I love showtunes and I kind of have always wanted to be on Broadway. That's part of the reason why I first decided to go out with Maureen.

Speaking of her, she just called. Which means she wants something. Or she's just outrageously horny. The first one sucks, but the second…well, if that's what she wants, it's totally okay by me. I don't think I'll complain about that. I mean, I knew this would happen. I knew she'd get bored with Joanne and she'd come crawling back to me. I knew she would come back. They always come back. No really, they do. I know what your thinking. Why would I be one of those guys the girls always come crawling back to? Usually, that's reserved for people like Roger. But, what can I say…I am fucking irresistible…pun intended! Secret number two I'd never want anyone to find out, though they'd never guess it anyway: I am a complete stud muffin. The girls, they can't resist me. And I know it.

Aside from the fact that girls always come crawling back to me, I kind of sensed Maureen would want me back sooner or later. I can sense a lot of things. I sensed that we'd all meet that fateful Christmas Eve. I sensed that Roger would eventually get out of the house. I sensed that we would all turn out okay, even after the hell of a year we went through. Let's just say that I sense a lot of things. Usually, they turn out correctly. Secret three no one will ever find out: I am kind of psychic. It's like I have ESP or whatever. I forgot what ESP stands for, so I'll assume I'm saying the right thing. I'm sensing it's the right thing, which means that ESP is probably the correct acronym and I am sensing that it is with my ESP.

Right now, my ESP is telling me that I should be reading the newspaper. Joanne left one here yesterday. Except, the only part of the newspaper I can ever focus on is the comics. So obviously, the fourth secret is: I still love the comics in the newspaper, no matter how childish that sounds. Especially The Peanuts. I love that silly Charlie Brown and I always thought that he and Lucy should get together, be high school sweethearts, get married, and have lots and lots of adorable babies. My first ever crush was on Lucy, no matter how ridiculous that sounds.

Wow, this is weird. I have totally deviated from my original purpose, whatever that was. So right now, I'm really bored. Maybe calling Maureen back is a good idea. No, it isn't. Stop telling yourself that! Calling Maureen is never a good idea! Unless you want to have the best sex—I mean unless you want to be hurt. Yes, Maureen hurts people…with all the kinky shit she does. I mean she hurts them emotionally. Why do I put up with all of this? Secret five no one will ever know: I like to get hurt. Physically, emotionally, I find it extremely appealing to be hurt. Don't ask why, I don't even know…but I do.

I think being left-handed is genetic, and if it is, I hate my genes. You see, I'm a lefty and it's retarded. I love my right hand. I hate my left hand. It seems like a cruel trick of fate to make me left-handed when we all know that I wish I had two right hands. I try not to use my left hand for anything. I even tried to be ambidextrous just so I wouldn't have to use my left hand to write. That didn't work out, but it's easier to do other things without your left hand. Which leads to secret six: that night when Angel died, the night everyone had sex and broke up ("It's over."), I broke up with my left hand officially, if you know what I mean. I tossed it aside, said "It's over," and turned to my right hand. Want to know what I said to my beloved right hand, "How you doin'?"

Benny came over yesterday. Random, I know. He came over just to "hang out," which is just Benny's way of buttering us up to make us like him again. Want to know what would really make me like him again? Of course you do. You obviously have nothing better to do than to read my little secrets anyway. What would really make me like him again would be him giving me the Range Rover. Secret seven: I really want Benny's Range Rover. Seriously, it's like the prefect car and it's gorgeous and I want it. Well, I also kind of want it for another reason. I want to say to Benny, "Hey Benny! Get your ass of that Range Rover! It's mine bitch!" Oh what a wonderful world that would be.

Oh look! It stopped raining. Yay! Now I am free to go over to Maureen's…no, no I will not go to Maureen's. I will not have sex with her today. I will not have sex with her tomorrow. After everything she's done to me, I should never want to have sex with her again. But I do. It's because of the eighth secret. I, Mark Cohen, certified glue that hold the group together/one to survive/nice Jewish boy, is a slut and a horn dog. And no, I do not mean horn dog as in all Jews have horns, or whatever that shit is. I think you know the kind I mean.

You know what's a funny word? Fork. Fork is a really funny word. So is Spork. Except the way Roger says it. Ever since high school, he has said it really weirdly. Not even weird. Scary. Secret nine: I am absolutely terrified of the way Roger says Spork. I never thought it possible that such a funny word could sound so scary. But he apparently did. I have nightmares about the way the dude says Spork, no joke. I had a nightmare once where he killed me with a Spork. Then I died and I don't know what he did with the Spork and I after, but I am sure it wasn't anything too pleasant.

This has been quite a journey. I have reveled eight silly, one retarded, and one serious secret. And yet I still have to leave one more. Maybe I should leave an idea. Yes. Secret ten no one would ever guess: I have some secrets that would make your hair stand on end. I just choose not to confess them.


End file.
